


to give you my tongue

by tosca1390



Category: FBI/US Attorney Series - Julie James
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Again?” is all Nick says as Jordan enters his office and locks the door. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She glares at him, planting her hands on her hips. “What do you mean, again?” she asks. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	to give you my tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empressearwig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/gifts), [spyglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyglass/gifts), [magisterequitum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/gifts), [theepiccek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theepiccek/gifts).



> Written for Jess's prompt at the [I Want Your Sex Ficathon](http://tosca1390.livejournal.com/331241.html). 
> 
> For Jess, Grace, Cait, Jordan, etc.

*

“Again?” is all Nick says as Jordan enters his office and locks the door. 

She glares at him, planting her hands on her hips. “What do you mean, again?” she asks. 

Glancing over her, he sits back in his desk chair and watches her, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. She shivers, the need to get his hands on her skin a low hum in her veins. Since he left her this morning throwing up because of the demon seeds he’s impregnated her with, all she’s been able to think about other than finding saltines and some intense toothpaste is him. His tan skin, those broad hands, the scar at his shoulder and the knife wound at his ribs, the fall of his hair across his brow, the way his eyes go hot emerald when she takes off her dress – 

“I mean,” he says with more amusement than she likes, “this is the third time you’ve visited me here this week. People will talk.”

She smiles sweetly and shrugs off her light spring trenchcoat. “There are two babies, Nick. Maybe I require extra attention.”

She’s wearing the shirtdress she knows he likes, black and slim-cut, with a belt around her waist and a low v-neckline. She’s gained weight in her breasts and hips so far (too many cupcakes, Kyle says at dinner weekly, and she resists the urge to stab him with a fork _again_ twins, but she’s going to enjoy it as much as she can. 

“There are two,” he says, looking rather dazed. 

“Frankly, McCall, it seems like you should be enjoying this more than you are,” she drawls out, walking over to his remarkably clear desk and perching herself on top of it, right in front of him. She kicks off her wedge sandals and rests her feet on the arms of his chair. It’s a rainy day in Chicago, the windows of his office splattered and misty. 

“Oh, I’m enjoying it,” he murmurs, eyes raking her over. 

“Because, as you may recall, we’ve had sex in my office multiple times,” she continues, reaching up to unclip her hair. Yellow waves spill from her scalp and over her shoulders, curling at the ends from the damp air outside. 

Nick blinks, that lovely flush returning to his cheekbones, the haze in his eyes welcome. She smirks. 

“That’s a wine store,” he says huskily. 

She tilts her head, brows raised. “Really?”

“Not that your workspace isn’t less sacred than mine,” he says quickly. 

“Nice save,” she says dryly. 

His hands finally touch her, cup her ankles, and she swallows a moan. Watching him here, in his dark suit and white-collared shirt, knowing that the stretch of muscle and skin is just buttons away from her – she’s wet already, panties damp at the thought of him taking her here, in the middle of the FBI offices, his colleagues just feet away. 

She has to catch her breath, her pulse racing. 

“What am I going to do for my actual lunch?” he murmurs, skimming his hands over her bare calves as he inches his chair closer. “You are in my schedule for a meal.”

Smirking, she leans down to kiss his soft lips, running her fingers through the dark hair at his temples. “I think we can find you something to eat,” she whispers into his mouth. 

“You’ve got a dirty mouth, Rhodes,” he mutters, his fingers dancing along her inner thighs. 

“I expect the same from you, McCall,” she retorts, quivering at his touch. 

He grins and pushes up her skirt to her hips, glancing her over. “Black panties.”

“You know how I like to coordinate.”

All she gets is a laugh and a wink before his face is between her thighs and he’s mouthing her through her panties, groaning. She muffles a shriek, digging her fingers into his hair and immediately melting under his tongue. His hands, callused and reliable and solid and warm, grip her thighs and spread her wide for his mouth, the soft wet sounds muffled by fabric and skin. 

“God, you’re already so fucking wet,” he moans, licking at her clit through her panties. 

Jordan huffs out a low breath, inching towards the edge of his desk. She curves around him, her toes curling hard into the armrests of his chairs. Thank _god_ she locked the fucking door. “I was thinking about you the whole time I was getting here,” she moans softly. “Thinking about that time we came home after dinner with Jack and Cameron and you fucked me against the door until I came twice – “

He reaches in and pushes the gusset of her panties aside, laving her wet flesh with his tongue directly. Panting, she drags her hands over the broad expanse of his back. 

“I thought about how I fucked you in your office chair at home two weekends ago,” she breathes, and he grazes his teeth over her clit. She yelps and sighs, pushing against the two fingers teasing her entrance. “Nick – “

“I want to take you back to Napa and fuck you in that outdoor shower for hours,” he mutters into her skin. Sweat beads along her forehead and she palms her breast with one hand, thumbing her nipple as she leans back on the other hand, open and wet for him. 

He eats at her with intense precision, like the sharp-minded agent he is, his tongue circling just around her clit as he arches two fingers inside of her. When he licks her from bottom to top and tongues her clit, she comes with a bitten-off moan of his name, her ass nearly off the desk’s edge. With ease, his mouth and chin shiny, he rises and shoves off his suit trousers, watching as she touches and strokes her breast. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he gazes at her, emerald and hot and intense. “Fuck, Jordan – “

“Come inside me,” she breathes, reaching up to haul him close for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. He pushes her panties aside and takes her in smooth steady strokes, the desk rocking with their movements underneath them. She drags her hands over his back and chest, bites at his jaw as he comes, his limbs shuddering as he groans her name into her ear, hot and needy. 

After he hauls up his pants and she pushes down her skirt, she sits in his lap as he leans back in his office chair once more. “See? Lunch,” she murmurs, unable to keep herself from touching him. 

“Are you going to be like this the whole damn time?” he asks wryly. 

She tips her head back and glares. “You cannot be complaining.”

“Fuck no. I just want to know how many long lunches to schedule.”

Jordan smiles slowly up at him. “I’d say you’re in for the long haul, McCall.”

He palms her still-flat belly, kisses her with a tenderness she aches for always. “Consider them penned in, Rhodes.”

*


End file.
